


Wanker

by Amuly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Harry’s 4<sup>th</sup> year, Sirius has very little to do in his cave besides wank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanker

Sirius Black was quickly becoming an expert wanker.

This was not something Sirius was proud of.

In fact, Sirius didn’t think he had been this good a wanker since he was thirteen years old, and he and Remus had yet to discover how much more fun it was to do this sort of thing with someone else rather than alone.

Speaking of Remus, it was he who Sirius blamed for his newly developed expertise. The man had categorically _refused_ to join Sirius in his new abode, or even pay him a visit. Oh, it wasn’t that Remus wasn’t interested in the sex. _That_ worry of Sirius’, Remus had patiently dispelled – _multiple_ times. But that was before Sirius had to leave for Hogsmeade, and live in a cave. Before – as Remus had so bluntly pointed out – Sirius was forced to go without a proper shower for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. And Remus was decidedly uninterested in roughing it with Sirius.

So, with nothing else to do besides the occasional crossword in the sporadic _Prophets_ he managed to pick up, Sirius wanked.

At first he wanked traditionally: just before he fell asleep, thinking about Remus. He would wet his hand with saliva, shove it under his pants, and go to work. His hand moved over his cock quickly, surely, bringing himself to orgasm within a few minutes of stroking. Generally he would call up old memories of him and Remus, young and beautiful, fucking in the Gryffindor dorms, or under the Quidditch stands, or in their new flat in London. Less frequently he might try and remember the older man he now knew, and the few moments they had managed to share thus far.

Of course, these regular wanks grew tiresome and boring. So he got more creative.

At first, it was just a matter of having nothing else to fill his time. So he would draw out the wanks – try and make them last as long as possible. When he did this, his hand wouldn’t dive beneath his trousers immediately. Instead, he’d sit, reading the _Prophet_ for the thousandth time, or just staring at the ceiling watching the shadows crawl, and ever so gently rub the heel of his hand against his trousers. He’d do that for a long time: just casual caresses, generally with some sort of steady, pulsing rhythmn.

When he began to grow hard enough to warrant it, the caresses would change from casual to firmer, more purposeful strokes. Still, he kept his hand outside of his trousers. The thin material would grow wet through-and-through quickly enough, but he absolutely refused to delve beneath it until it was soaked with his precome.

Finally, _finally_ he would wet his palm and venture beneath his trousers, taking himself firmly in hand. But then he would wait. He might flick his thumb over the head, smearing more precome down his shaft. His fingers might drift back to tickle his balls, or prod his perineum, or even graze a fingernail across the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. But still, he wouldn’t stroke himself: merely tease himself with soft caresses.

When he eventually grew bored or could stand the taunting no longer – sadly, more often the former than the latter – Sirius would jerk himself to completion, taking his time with that as he did every other stage of the process.

Of course, eventually, that wasn’t entertaining enough either.

He tried getting Remus to write him dirty letters, thinking they might aid him in his wanking sessions. He managed to receive one – deliciously filthy and descriptive, thanks to Remus’ perverse and exacting mind – before he and Remus both received a rather strongly-worded letter from Dumbledore telling them to keep their communications to a minimum. Sirius blamed Dumbledore’s lack of getting any on his unfairly stodgy behavior. He wanted to say as such to Remus, but he couldn’t think of anything vital enough to add to the letter so that it would meet Dumbledore’s standards.

So instead, Sirius turned to constructing elaborate fantasies himself.

At first they mostly involved Remus, and the sort of interesting positions they might contort themselves into – old age be damned! In Sirius’ fantasies, they did it front to back, front to front, sixty-nined, doggy-style, cowboy, _reverse_ cowboy, over a desk, against the headboard, tied up, hanging from a swing, up against a wall, and hanging upside-down over the edge of the bed. Sirius was fairly certain that might be impossible, but at this point he was willing to give pretty much anything a go.

After he had run through every position he could imagine, Sirius started thinking of all the different kinky things he might do to Remus. Rimming was definitely top of the list – they hadn’t gotten around to it since their reunion, and Sirius recalled that Remus had a particular _love_ of that old standby. Remus would come without any other stimulation than Sirius’ tongue buried deep inside him, back in the day. So rimming was a big _yes_ on the list of _Things to Do to Remus as Soon as I Bloody Well Get the Chance_. Frotting was good too, as was felching, blowjobs, hand jobs, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, facials, and intercrural sex. Cross dressing was a must – the day that Sirius pictured Remus in a dress was good, but the day he pictured himself in lacy panties and bra was _fantastic_. Sirius vaguely toyed with the idea of water sports in his fantasies, but one limp penis later he decided that definitively wasn’t his thing, even in his increasingly insane fantasies.

Next on his list were _places_ to do Remus. Remus on his old motorbike, Remus on a broom, Remus _with_ a broom (Sirius had _liked_ that one), Remus with a snitch, Remus with Padfoot (that one wasn’t quite as sexy as Sirius had thought it might be), Remus on a roof, Remus in the Ministry, Remus at Hogwarts (sexy professor motif: always a winner in Sirius’ book), Remus in a tree,  &c. But then _that_ had gotten dull, too.

Not that Sirius would _ever_ get bored of the _real_ Remus: no, never would happen. But these were his _fantasies_ , and he was stuck in this blasted cave for twenty-three hours of the day, seven days a week. He had to think of some more creative things to occupy his time. So he started to… _add_ a few people to his fantasies.

At first even this was pretty tame. Remus, Sirius, and Shaklebolt (who Sirius assumed was still the hot hunk of man-meat he remembered from Auror training). Remus, Sirius, and the Prewett brothers. He imagined the different positions they could be in, and the different things they could do. Double penetration, with him and Shaklebolt pounding into Remus as he begged for more. Fucking Remus while he blew both Prewett brothers at once. Forming a man train with Shaklebolt at his back and Remus at his front. He never strayed toward James – he couldn’t bring himself to think about James that way back then, and now…now his mind didn’t even want to drift near the topic of James. But as his mind grew more and more bored, he started coming up with the strangest things.

Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore, fucking their brains out while Fawkes watched (because why not?). Remus, Sirius, and old Mad-Eye, reuniting at Hogwarts for a shag. He recalled that Mad-Eye had a stump leg now, and thought of all sorts of interesting ways that could be used. He even thought of some terribly kinky places to put Mad-Eye’s eye (okay, so he wasn’t all that original. In his fantasies, Mad-Eye’s eye was shoved in either Remus or Sirius’ arse. Well, where else are you going to put it?).

By the time the end of the school year was approaching, Sirius had become so bored with his elaborate, insane fantasies that he returned to simple, drawn-out wanking sessions, using only half-remembered glimpses of new Remus’ face during orgasm.

Sirius grinned, hand stilling on his arousal for a moment as he thought back to the too-hurried moments they had shared before he had to head back to Hogwarts to watch over Harry. Remus had looked so different, and yet so beautifully the same. Sirius appreciated the few extra pounds Remus had put on, settling himself comfortably into his professor persona. It made for a less trim figure, but also less bony hips knocking uncomfortably against each other as they thrust to completion. He liked having new bits of Remus to squeeze and fondle, and voiced his positive opinion of the new weight multiple times.

New Remus (as Sirius still called him in his head) had more scars – many more. Sirius didn’t like that aspect of his lover’s new body. Not that he minded the scars when they were younger. But now, those scars only served as a painful reproach to Sirius, and those thirteen long years that he couldn’t spend the full with his Remus.

There were flecks of grey now, too – and not just in the hair on Remus’ head. In fact, the first time Sirius had managed to get Remus’ trousers off, he had stared in shock for a moment at the thick nest of grey hair sitting above his cock. He had stared, blinked, then stared again. Poor Remus had grown nervous, thinking that Sirius found him too much of an old man. He had made to get up and leave the bed, but then Sirius had dragged him back, laughing. He just hadn’t expected so _much_ of the hair down there to be grey. He had expected more of an amount proportionate to the grey hair on Remus’ head. Remus had shook his head ruefully, confessing that his pubic hair had started going grey before any visible hair had. With that cleared up, Sirius then dove right in, nuzzling and licking and sucking at his new discoveries.

In the end, the thoughts of his Remus were always enough to bring Sirius off quite satisfactorily. He stroked himself to completion, grunting Remus’ name as come spurted over dirty fingernails.

Sirius sighed as he wiped his hand onto his trousers. It was probably for the best, that Remus hadn’t come out here with him. Right now he was probably comfortable in bed, perhaps just after stepping out of a nice, hot bath. With bubbles.

Sirius changed into Padfoot, padding outside and staring out over the twinkling lights of Hogsmeade village. At least with the end of the school year drawing neigh, he’d be able to leave this cave soon enough. Maybe even shack up with Remus – if bloody Dumbledore thought it “prudent”. Wanker.

**

Out in the night, a few hours away, Remus came with a strangled gasp. He sighed as he reached for his wand and muttered a quick scourgify on himself, then settled beneath his blankets to fall asleep. Bloody Sirius, getting it in his head that he had to stay in that flea-bitten form in that dirty cave just so he could watch and do nothing as Harry competed in the Triwizard Tournament. Now he was turning Remus into an expert wanker, with nothing better to do than sit around, read books, and wank.

Bloody Dumbledore.

Wanker.

  



End file.
